A/N: First of all, a heartfelt apology to everyone for not updating lately. I've been given heaps of holiday homework, and am making very little headway, so I'll have to focus on that for the time being. Here's the next chapter. If it's a little substandard, sorry. I had a severe case of writer's block, and it probably shows. As always, reviews are welcome :)

Chapter 4: Irritation

She gulped nervously and scrubbed her clammy hands on her school robe. Alone in the drafty corridor, with nothing but the flickering light of the torches in the wall scones for company, she faced the familair wooden door of the Potions classroom, one she passed through so many times for classes that she scarcely took notice of it. But now, it held a new significance for her.

"Breathe, Hermione," she told herself firmly, reaching out to grasp the doorknob. Flinching at the feel of the icy metal against her palm, she turned it and pushed the door open. The classroom beyond was completely dark, except for the wan light shining in through the doorway, and as quiet as a tomb.

She crossed the threshold of the room and made her way towards a door on the far end, seeing light shining from the bottom of the door, her feet making no noise on the flagstones, stained with countless accidents perpetuated by students over the years.

Tentatively, she rapped on the door. "Professor?"

"Enter," he called sharply as the door swung open of its own accord.

Steeling herself, she stepped into the office, finding her Watcher seated behind his desk, quill moving back and forth in a rather violent manner over a stack of parchments. "Sit, Miss Granger," he ordered crisply without looking up. She complied, settling uncomfortably in the straight-backed wooden chair before his desk. He obviously never expected visitors to stay long, she mused as she sifted, trying to find the softest possible spot on the chair. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Five points for interrupting me, Miss Granger, and you flatter yourself. 'Wanted' is too optimistic a word. I should think 'had' would be more accurate."

She simply folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to get to the point.

He finally deigned to lift his eyes from the parchment to look at her. "Cat got your tongue, Miss Granger?" he inquired mockingly. "I haven't seen you without a forthcoming opinion on anything besides the time you were Petrified in your second year."

She refused to rise to the bait, keeping her tongue in check with the knowledge that he was looking for an excuse to dock more points.

Seeing that she was not about to give him an incentive to do so, he bent to the essays again. "I assumed you read the book the Headmaster gave you?"

"Yes."

"You understand the responsibilities laid upon you as the Slayer?"

"Yes, but—"

"Training is a daily affair, starting from tomorrow. Meet me an hour after dinner in the Potions classroom. Dress comfortably." All this was uttered in a single breath. "You are dismissed."

"But, sir," she burst out impatiently. He fixed her with a glare, and she had to fight to urge to wilt under the heat of it.

"You are dismissed."

She decided to pull a bluff. "Professor Dumbledore said I could ask you any questions I have."

"Did he, now?" She quelled a shudder at his dangerously quiet intonation. "Well, I say any queries can wait until tomorrow. You. Are. Dismissed." The last words were enunciated through clenched teeth, and she wisely decided that she had pushed it far enough.

With a hasty 'thank you', she strode out as quickly as her dignity would allow.

0000

She gritted her teeth against the pain as he pressed down with his hand on her back. She had no idea why he was subjecting her to these yoga-esque exercises, but she had a niggling suspicion he was testing her.

At the moment, she was stuck in a position with her legs bent, soles of her feet against each other, and he was forcing her to bend over as far as she could. The muscles of her inner thighs protested quite vocally to such rigourous stretching, and several well-chosen insults for her Watcher came to mind.

He did not seem to take any notice of her discomfort (she figured pigs could fly if he did) and put her through a few more torturous exercises.

"Your flexibility is dismal," he sneered about an hour later.

Managing somehow to get to her feet, she winced and laid a palm on the cold stone wall for support. "With all due respect, sir, I fail to see the connection between my calling and my elasticity, or lack of thereof."

He arched a derisive brow at her. "I must ask the Headmaster to declare a holiday. The Head Girl fails to understand something."

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the retort on the tip of her tongue from escaping, silently counting to ten. If he kept this up, her pillow was in for a thorough pummelling that night.

"Your pathetic lack of flexibility, Miss Granger, will hamper your competency in a fight, and perhaps make the difference between life and death." He spoke as he would to a child, condescension positively dripping from every syllable, and she had to make a conscious effort to prevent herself from wiping the infuriating expression off his face.

Forget about him putting her out of her misery. If he was going to treat her like this for the rest of her life, she had better reserve a room for herself in St Mungo's.

"Repeat those exercises nightly." He turned and sat down at his desk, his body language a clear indication that the training session was over.

Muttering darkly to herself, she stalked headlong out of the room in a manner reminiscent of her own cat.

0000

He watched her go, impressed despite himself. She had borne the exercises he had inflicted on her well, not once voicing a complaint. She would need a fair bit of training before she could qualify as a credible fighter, but with her unquenchable thirst to succeed, it should not too difficult a task.

He shook himself bodily. Listen to yourself, championing the Gryffindor, he thought disgustedly. Next thing I know, I'll be wearing Gryffindor colours. Scowling, he spun and headed for his chambers.

0000

She stamped all the way up to the tower which housed her rooms, positively radiating indignant fury. How dare he deride her like that?

Barking the password to the portrait that guarded the door, she made her way up the stairs and shoved the door to the common room open.

Draco Malfoy looked up from his book on the couch at her. "Having a bad day, are we?" he asked.

"Sod off, ferret boy," she snarled. "Or I'll rearrange your face."

The Head Boy wisely shut up and followed her with his eyes as she strode across the common room, disappearing into her room. Shaking his head, he returned to his book.

bououou: Hm, good point. I'll be taking that in consideration, but I can't promise anything as yet. Thanks for bringing it up!

LilacDreams: Thanks for finally reviewing! And I'd rather eat leather before I let 'Arwen' see this :P And do stop twirling, you guys are making me dizzy.

GeekGoddess1: Thanks for reading! And yeah, I'm working on a way to insert Hermione's calling into the Buffy-verse.

Hayley: Yup, we are in quite a fix. Maybe you could email it over. My email address is in my writer's profile : )

Angel-wingzz: Thank you, I'm so flattered. I'm working on the 'revelations' parts, and nope, I don't think there'll be any sort of Hermione-Draco thing. Sorry (sheepish face)

And finally, an advanced Merry Christmas to everyone, cos I won't be around during the Christmas week. Enjoy your hols: )